Dating and Dickpics: Episode 1

So, as you know, this blog has now become a personal one too. I’d been toying with this idea for a while — a funny, witty memoir of my dating woes. Here’s a little background:

  • I’m 21 years old.
  • I’ve been single for longer than I care to remember.
  • I’ve not had sex in even longer than that.
  • I believe that for me personally, any relationship I get into now that I’m in my 20s should be serious or going somewhere.
  • There are a plethora of fuckboys around.
  • Dating apps/websites can be interesting…but usually, if you state you’re a feminist in your profile because you want to find like-minded people, you will get trolled.
  • I reject guys based on the fact that they want kids in the future or there’s a chance that they might.
Call me the new Bridget Jones...

Call me the new Bridget Jones…

Things have been pretty boring all in all. I did have some excitement, which I’ll fill you in about. I started talking to this charming Greek guy. We got on well, seemed very compatible. I was even willing to compromise on a couple of things because I figured that I can’t have it all, right? Things were going well. He was attractive and charming. We texted all day, every day. We had arranged a date but he was ill so we rescheduled for the following weekend.

Then he started acting like a fucktard.

He played a ‘practical joke’ on me which wasn’t in the slightest bit funny. He told me that he’d lied about his age and that he was actually about to turn 20. I told him I didn’t believe him because he looked a lot older and that yes, it was a dealbreaker — I’m not going to date someone younger than me, especially if they’ve lied about their age. He was so adamant that for a minute I believed it. Then he took a picture of his driving licence and it proved that he was actually going to be 26, as he’d told me when we started talking. I was beyond pissed off. He said he was just a joke, that he hadn’t even found it funny (why the fuck did you do it, then?!) and that he was sorry. I let him stew for a few hours whilst he sent me message after message about how sorry he was and how he was now begging for my forgiveness. When I did message back, he said he was in pain because he thought he’d actually lost me.

can u not

can u not

A few days later, whilst at work (temping), I got a message from him telling me he loved me. Who the fuck says shit like that?! I said he couldn’t because we hadn’t even met. He said he was just ‘testing’ my reaction. That’s beyond fucked up. I told him that I wasn’t interested in him any more. He then got on the defensive; I clearly couldn’t handle a joke (neither of them were funny), how could I judge him after that, clearly there was someone else etc. Hold the fuck up. We hadn’t even been on a date. Even if there was someone else, why would that matter? In the end, I got fed up. I told him he was a fucking psycho and blocked his ass. I found out later that he’d been stalking me on Facebook, a week after I blocked him from sending me texts and whatsapp messages. Lovely.

After that, I started talking to a Welsh chap who lives in the same town as my brother. Nice, I thought. He was a self-proclaimed feminist who never wanted kids. Promising.

Of course, these things never last for long.

Things were going well after we’d exchanged numbers. We enjoyed similar things, talked often and seemingly got on well. Then the cracks appeared.

This all just happened but I felt the need to vent, hence the first installment of ‘Dating and Dickpics’. I’d planned for this series to be written carefully, not in a fit of giving zero fucks.

You'll never catch me on one.

You’ll never catch me on one.

So he claims to be a feminist, which is great. He says he’s read a lot of feminist theory, understands intersectionality etc. Okay, so if you get intersectionality, you should understand what I mean when I say the word ‘cisgender’. He didn’t know what it meant and then refused to admit that he had fallen awry and didn’t know everything there was to know about privilege and intersectionality. He was adamant that the majority of feminists out there have no idea what it means. Mmmmkay, whatever. He couldn’t concede the fact that I knew more than him. He also reeked of not checking his privilege as a white cishet male.

And today? Well, he told me he’s a cyclist. I don’t particularly like cyclists, being a motorist myself. I’m not an asshole motorist though — I always try to walk when I can or take the tube or trains. The thing is, he was trying to convince me that I should abandon the tube because it’s a ‘horrible’ thing and should instead cycle. Everyone is welcome to their opinion, but don’t fucking shove yours down someone else’s throat just because they lead a different way of life or disagree with you. I prefer the tube over Boris bikes. Who died and made that a bloody crime? He couldn’t stop extolling the virtues of cycling and you know what? I told him where to go.

How much do you want to bet he comes crawling back tomorrow? It’s not the first time he has. He did it after refusing to admit he didn’t know something about feminism/privilege/intersectionality.

Basically, it is not endearing when you’re trying to get a date with a woman if you tell her that she must be wrong just because she disagrees with you based on her own experiences in life. It doesn’t pay to be a complete asshat.

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No Means No

Trigger warning: Some readers may find this article triggering or upsetting.

It’s always the victim’s fault. It’s always ‘why didn’t you go to the police sooner?’ or ‘why didn’t you tell anyone before?’ The thing is, until you’ve been through it yourself, you’ll never be able to know why people don’t report assaults and keep it to themselves for so long…

Like what you’re reading? Read the rest of the article here

Updates

I’ve decided to merge this blog with my more personal blog. I don’t see the point of having two separate ones and I hope my rantings and peculiar life are amusing to some readers out there. Besides, I’m confident and proud of who I am so I don’t see why I need to hide behind a veil of anonymity. That being said, this blog will mostly remain a place for my writing and articles.

Some of you probably don’t know much about me, so here’s a little background.

  • My name is Jaz. I’m 21 and a graduate (Italian with Spanish).
  • I love writing (obviously).
  • I like pizza, Netflix, hanging out with friends and making the most of my time on Earth.
  • I am a feminist.
  • My life is currently in a phase of unpredictability and transition. I’m not really sure what I’m doing with my life, although my career seems to be okay. It’s just my love life and everything else that’s a bit of a mess.
  • I identify with Chandler Bing.

The Grim Realities of Graduate Life

Once upon a time, graduating with a degree from university seemed to be sure-fire way to start a long and prosperous career. The idea of university was sold as the place to go to further your academic curiosity and as a gateway to a solid, steady job.

If only this fairy-tale was still true.

I graduated in July last year, all fresh-faced and excited about what graduate life would bring. Throughout my final year at university, I applied for several grad schemes but didn’t land any. Still, I had high hopes due to my degree in Languages. After all, people are always popping up on the news saying that there aren’t enough multilingual people in certain industries. I was sure that it was only a matter of time before someone gave me a break so that I could prove that I was worthy of a job.

Want to read the whole article? Click here!